Read Short Stories Online
Explore Moboreader's curated short story collection. Read best English fiction, mystery, romance, werewolf, and drama. Perfect for quick reads!
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The Truth About His Mistress
I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.
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When Love Died, Freedom Began
The jagged glass bit into Amelia Hayes' s cheek. "Help me," she choked into the phone, but her husband, Ethan Caldwell, snapped: "Amelia, for God' s sake, I' m in a meeting." A sharp blow, then darkness. She awoke not in her blood-slicked car, but in her opulent master bedroom, the calendar marking three months after her wedding. Three months into a marriage that had already begun to kill her. Ethan stood by the window, his voice softening, "Yes, Jessica, tonight sounds perfect." Jessica Thorne, his true love, the shadow over Amelia' s first life. The familiar ache in Amelia' s chest gave way to a chilling, new fury. For seven miserable years, she had given Ethan desperate, unyielding devotion. She endured his coldness, his brazen affairs, his emotional abuse, all for a flicker of his attention. She had become a shell, a caricature, ridiculed by Ethan' s circle and condescended to by his family. The profound injustice, the sheer blindness of his indifference, was a bitter pill. Her heart, once broken, now felt nothing but a hollow echo of unrequited love. Then, at a gala, a cruel act involving Eleanor' s ashes, and Ethan, without hesitation, shoved Amelia, his accusations echoing: "You are a disgrace." He comforted Jessica while Amelia' s head reeled from the impact. That was the final straw. No tears, no anger. Just a cold resolve. She delivered a small velvet box to his penthouse. Inside: the wedding ring and a divorce decree. "I. Want. You. Out. Of. My. Life. Forever," she stated, her voice clear. She was reborn to be free.
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Worshiped Him, Whipped By Him
I was just a 20-year-old NYU art history student, interning at my dad’s real estate firm. But my world privately revolved around Marcus Thorne—my father’s handsome, brilliant business partner. My crush on him was pure, all-consuming, utterly naive. He’d always been so kind, a true gentleman. At a charity gala, I watched Izzy Vance, Marcus’s associate, subtly ply him with drinks. When I tried to help him to his suite, Izzy "found" us, her perfectly timed gasp and a discreet phone flash sealing my fate. The next morning, headlines screamed: "NYU Intern Olivia Chen Caught in Compromising Position with Marcus Thorne." Blurry, damning photos accompanied them. Marcus’s icy call followed: "Izzy found you taking advantage of me! My reputation is in shreds because of your childish stunt!" He believed her. Completely. Whispers and hostile stares at my father’s office became unbearable. The kind man I’d adored now looked at me with absolute disgust. My dreams shattered. How could he be so blind? So cruel? This wasn't the Marcus I knew. This felt brutally unfair. That week, the naive girl who worshipped him died. In her place, a colder awareness dawned: the world was not kind, people not what they seemed. He thought I was playing games, but I was done. This was my turning point.
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When Love Turns to Ash
My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.
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The Wife He Designed
My life with Ethan Cole, the charismatic tech CEO, was perfect. I was his beloved wife, carrying our first child, convinced I was the center of his universe. But when my father fell ill, Ethan disappeared from my life, only to reappear in a crushing photo: his arm intimately around my successful cousin, Olivia Hayes. My world shattered. The betrayal ran deeper than I could have imagined. I discovered I was merely a meticulously chosen stand-in, a grotesque copy of Olivia, the woman he truly loved. He even desired our child to have *her* features, a living link to his obsession. Every tender gesture, every shared dream, was a calculated lie, meaning my marriage, my love, and my pregnancy were all built on his monstrous deceit. A cold rage blossomed within me; how could I have been so blind? He believed he owned me, that I would never leave, especially with a baby on the way, confident I was a compliant fool. He was terribly wrong. I would not be his vessel, his substitute. When he least expected it, while he was still flaunting his obsession, I quietly underwent an abortion. Then, using his arrogance against him, I meticulously orchestrated my escape, securing my divorce and vanishing without a trace. He thought he was playing me; I showed him exactly who was being played, leaving him a devastating truth about his own making.
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Weeks Before My Wedding, My Fiancé Forgot Only Me
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away. After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future. Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me. I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call. "Total genius move," he boasted to friends. His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding. Heartbroken, I feigned belief. I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies. He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency. After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first. He even tried to cut me off financially. How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster? His betrayal poisoned every memory. I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty. His audacity left me reeling. But I wouldn’t be his victim. Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed. I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter. I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.
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My Husband's Double Life
My life with Liam Goldstein was a fairytale, a perfect love story plastered across every magazine and TV screen in Manhattan. He'd even unveiled the "Maya's Horizon" necklace, a multi-million-dollar cascade of sapphires, celebrating our perfect devotion. But fairytales are just that – tales. Then came the burner phone, the hushed calls, the screenshots, and hotel receipts that screamed 'affair'. I watched him live-stream gifts to his young mistress, Ava Sinclair, calling her his "queen," only to later find her visibly pregnant in a hospital, flaunting our engagement necklace and talking about a "situation" with me. His friends, the same ones who toasted our "perfect love," smirked as he publicly kissed Ava and joked about his "side action," assuring her I'd "never find out." Every grand gesture he'd made, from donating a kidney to cultivating a white rose garden, flashed before my eyes, revealing themselves as calculated performances. How could the man who saved my life, the one I vowed to, betray me with such grotesque audacity, in front of the world and his complicit inner circle? It felt like a sick cosmic joke, a public humiliation disguised as love. But I had given him a warning on our wedding day: "If you ever lie to me, truly lie, I will vanish from your life as if I never existed." Now, it was time to activate the Phoenix Initiative, erase Maya Goldstein, and leave Liam with nothing but ghost of a promise he had shattered.
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The Billionaire's Wife: A Death That Wasn't
Sarah Thorne, née Miller, lived in a glittering New York penthouse, the wife of tech billionaire Marcus Thorne. Everyone whispered it was a fairytale, but Sarah was trapped, a silent prisoner in a gilded cage. Her world crumbled when Marcus, the man who’d allegedly ‘saved’ her, began using her parents’ struggling diner as ruthless leverage, threatening them with prison. Then, his mistress Tiffany arrived, turning Sarah’s home into a stage for relentless humiliation. Marcus’s cruelty escalated: from gaslighting his infidelity to forcing Sarah into a childhood trauma trigger – a dark, rat-infested root cellar. He even publicly shamed her with leaked childhood photos and doused her in greasy dishwater at a high-society event. The betrayal was absolute. How could the man who promised her the world become her tormentor? Why did he constantly break her down? In despair, Sarah decided she couldn't escape him alive. She contacted her childhood chemist friend, Evie, for an untraceable substance. Her grim plan: a final, shared exit. But Evie's "poison" wasn't what Sarah thought. It was a reversible sedative, designed not for an end, but for Sarah's ultimate freedom and Marcus's brutal, surprising reckoning.
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Wedding Bells, Death Knells
Seven years of my life were stolen, locked away for a crime I didn't commit. Now, out of that concrete cage, the California sun feels alien against my skin, and the only thing I crave is peace. Not salvation, not forgiveness, just a final resting place: my ashes scattered among the ancient Redwoods I once dreamed of with him. But achieving even that final wish requires money, a sum I, a pariah with a prison record, can barely imagine. So, I swallow my pride and take a job in the opulent heart of Los Angeles. On my first shift, amidst the clinking glasses and hushed power plays, I hear a familiar laugh. Liam. The man I still love, the man who believed I was a murderer, who saw me imprisoned for his sister’s recklessness. He’s not alone. My former best friend, now his fiancée, Jess, is by his side. Their eyes, once filled with affection, now gleam with cold fury and malicious triumph. They relish in my humiliation, forcing me to clean up their messes, parading their love in front of me, a constant reminder of the life I lost. Why do I endure this exquisite torture? Why do I allow the man I cherished to break me, piece by agonizing piece? Because I’m dying, and this agonizing job is my only chance to fulfill my last desire. Then, Liam offers me a new role: his personal attendant. A public spectacle of my subservience, designed to parade my shame at every elite gathering. The pay? Substantial. A devil’s bargain, perhaps, but it's the only key to the Redwoods. I accept, my dignity traded for a final breath of freedom among the trees.
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When My Savior Became My Destroyer
My life belonged to Julian Vance. He saved me at sixteen, a lost girl from the system, giving me a Manhattan apartment, Juilliard lessons, and paying for my dying sister Mia's severe cystic fibrosis care. Mia was my world; Julian kept her alive, so I believed I loved him. Then Julian met Chloe Raine, an indie folk singer. He became obsessed, claiming it was a "game" to expose her "integrity." "You're my queen. Always," he' d insist, but his eyes glowed with dangerous fascination, and a cold knot formed in my stomach. He started neglecting me for Chloe. One bitter Hamptons night, he dragged me onto our balcony in a rage. When I refused to confess, he pulled out his phone, showing Mia's sterile room, her ventilator alarm blaring. He calmly threatened her life, unless I confessed what I' d said. My heart froze. Mia, my only family, was a mere tool to him, her life leverage. The man who swore to protect me was a monster. I was his possession, my emotions irrelevant, my existence dictated by his whims and new obsessions. I gave him the lie, but the humiliation was absolute. My unplanned pregnancy ended in miscarriage, which he blamed on my "disobedience." But the ultimate breaking point was Mia. He allowed his security to remove my dying sister's life support as I screamed. Mia died. My baby was gone. My love for Julian died with them. He was my destroyer. I had to escape.
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The Day He Asked for My Kidney
My family owed the Vances, a debt etched invisibly deep into our lives. Years ago, I’d even donated bone marrow to Julian, Richard Vance’s son, the boy I once hero-worshipped. It felt like a small repayment, tying me deeper into their world. Then Julian came to me, his handsome face etched with worry. “Mia,” he urgent, “It’s Cassandra. Her kidneys are failing. You’re a perfect match.” He was asking for another piece of me. In that suffocating moment, a brutal vision slammed into me: Cassandra dying, Julian’s monstrous rage, my life systematically destroyed, culminating in my suspicious death from his calculated revenge. The horror of this terrifying premonition stripped away every shred of naivety. How could the man whose life I’d saved, whose family saved mine, be capable of such monstrous malice? Survival became my only thought. I looked at him, not a hero, but a potential destroyer. “Alright, Julian,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ll do it. But I have conditions. This will be the final repayment. A legally binding contract for complete severance of all ties, and a substantial sum for my complete disappearance. My ticket to freedom.”
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Thorne's Penance, Elara's Triumph
I once believed Reverend Thorne was my savior. Found freezing in the remote Alabama woods at five, abandoned by my own cruel mother, he offered me a home, a fragile hope within the church orphanage. But that hope shattered when, at eighteen, he learned of my innocent affection. Fearing scandal, he sent me on a deadly mission, deep into the dangerous Ozark Mountains-a place guarded by hostile hermits. He knew it was a death sentence. I died a brutal death, but my spirit lingered, unseen. I watched as he dismissed my murder, slandered my memory, and even married my cruel half-sister, Seraphina. My very essence was erased, my final desperate pleas unheard, my ghost cast out as "evil." Every shred of dignity, every memory of kindness, was crushed. How could a man I idolized, who once offered salvation, betray me so utterly? Why was my tormentor allowed triumph while I faded into oblivion? But then, a chilling miracle: I awoke, a child once more, with every agonizing memory intact. The same frozen woods, the same false savior offering his hand. This time, I ran. This time, I refuse to be a victim. My second life begins now, and this time, I choose my own path to healing, love, and a justice far sweeter than revenge.
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More Than a Mistress, Less Than a Wife
Olivia Holloway was once NYC’s golden girl, an architect married to the powerful Ethan Cartwright. Our penthouse offered glittering city views, a testament to the life I’d built—or rather, the life I’d put my own dreams on hold for. We were the epitome of success. Then the Hamptons retreat happened. Ethan was found with a junior analyst, Chloe Vance. His smooth, too-smooth explanation about being drugged dissolved months later when Chloe reappeared, pregnant, claiming the baby was his. It was a slap in the face. His mother, Eleanor, insisted I accept the situation for the “Cartwright heir.” My grandmother's cherished sapphire heirloom was casually given to Chloe. Ethan left me to drown after a yacht accident, prioritizing Chloe, then demanded I, injured, donate blood to her. Each betrayal was a fresh wound, yet he expected me to act as if nothing happened. The public humiliation was unending, climaxing when Chloe accused me of harming her at a charity gala, and Eleanor physically slapped me. My entire life, identity, and very humanity had been consumed by their schemes. How could the man I loved destroy me so thoroughly, yet remain so oblivious to my suffering? In that moment, something inside me shattered irrevocably, but it also awakened. I smashed Eleanor’s treasured porcelain heirloom, signaling a definitive end to their control. I filed for divorce, packed a bag, and disappeared, ready to reclaim my life, my freedom, and rediscover Olivia Holloway.
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Too Late, Mr. Blindness Billionaire
My entire world revolved around Liam, my little brother, whose fragile life was being stolen by aggressive leukemia. My boyfriend, Ethan, genuinely loved me, but the $50,000 needed for Liam' s experimental treatment felt like an insurmountable mountain. In a desperate bid for money, I answered a seemingly legitimate ad for a high-paying personal assistant, only to step into a horrific trap orchestrated by my own manipulative half-sister, Chloe. I was brutally assaulted, drugged, and left for dead. The police report, maliciously twisted by Chloe' s connections, painted me as a "high-end call girl" injured in a "client dispute." Chloe then spun a web of lies to Ethan, claiming I' d taken the $50,000 for myself. He bought every word, his loving eyes turning into a mask of utter disgust before he walked out of my life forever, leaving me shattered and Liam still fighting for his life. How could the man who once vowed to protect me believe such monstrous accusations without question? The betrayal, the public humiliation, and the profound injustice felt like a physical weight crushing my spirit. Five years later, I had painstakingly rebuilt my life, becoming a successful tech executive in London. Then, a call from Ethan-now a billionaire-pulled me back to New York. My fragile hope for closure was brutally crushed when I found him engaged to Chloe, ready to restart their cruel tactics and drag me back into their twisted game. This time, I wouldn't just survive; I would fight back.
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The Neglected Wife
After five years of marriage, my husband is always absent on my birthday. No gifts, no blessings. He said, "I've given you the money, buy whatever you want." But he started preparing for Fiona's birthday half a month in advance. He said, "She's different, she only has me." As the sole survivor of a unexpected fire, he has been heartbroken for over a decade. Watching Fiona in Moments holding a cake and kissing his face. I slowly commented. 【Just this useless person, I'm giving him to you.】
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His Unwanted Wife Wants A Divorce
In the fifth year of marriage, Rylan had an affair with a somewhat famous internet celebrity. His friends asked him, "If Stella finds out and wants a divorce and half of your assets, what will you do?" He laughed disdainfully while smoking, "Stella, she's just someone who throws herself at me, loves me to death, and can't leave me." Later, when I presented him with the divorce agreement, he cried and tried to hold on. But, cold wine can still be warmed, how can a cold heart be warmed?
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Premiere Night Betrayal
I woke up from a car accident, my head pounding, to Ethan's hushed voice on the phone. Not sweet nothings to me, his injured fiancée, but a deal with his agent to steal my screenplay, "City of Echoes," and give it to A-lister Olivia Monroe. He planned to propose at the premiere, trap me with a ring, and erase me from the narrative of my own success, all for Olivia's comeback and his own glory. The agent, surprisingly, spilled the tea: my early career sacrifice to cover Ethan's plagiarism, and Olivia's involvement in the stress that led to my miscarriage, our baby now gone. Was my entire relationship a carefully woven web of lies, orchestrated by an ambitious man and a manipulative starlet? Then I saw that framed photo of me in Liam Sterling's office: a gesture of respect towards my writing. This realization made me start a new life plan: run, collaborate with Ethan's nemesis, and rewrite my history.
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In Love With My Ex's Uncle
On the day of the wedding, Brendan left me and went to find his true love. When I called him, he, who had always been gentle to me, showed impatience for the first time, saying, "It's just a wedding, I'll make it up to you when I get back." Feeling disheartened, I suggested calling off the wedding. Brendan thought I was just being stubborn, and in the face of friends' advice, he said, "It's okay, when she calms down, she will come find me." It wasn't until Edrence, the prince, posted our marriage certificate that Brendan suddenly went crazy and came knocking on my door. When he saw the man who opened the door, he was slightly stunned. And I, standing behind the man, with a blush still on my face, leaned forward and asked, "Nephew, what brings you to see your auntie so late?"
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Inheritance of Lies: The Daughter's Revenge
My fiancé, Jake, stood impatiently by the Greyhound bus, his hand on my back, promising a new life away from our dying West Virginia town. But this wasn't our first trip. In another life, just moments after boarding this very bus, his hands closed around my throat. I remembered the cold fury in his eyes and the hiss of another woman's name: Brittany. That life ended with my world going dark. My hero father' s legacy, his survivor benefits, and even his house, systematically stolen by Jake' s family, the Millers. They' d taken me in after Grandma died, only to exploit every cent, while Brittany, the town's "it girl," brazenly used my father's name for her own gain, all with Sheriff Miller's complicit blessing. How could I have been so naive? So blind to Jake's possessive obsession with Brittany? To the quiet exploitation that turned my father's honorable memory into a tool for their greedy schemes? The realization burned, a colder wrath than death itself. Now, I' m back. The naive Ava is dead, burned away by the memory of my own murder. This time, I won't just board the bus; I'll wait. I' ll make them wait. Because this second chance isn't about escaping-it's about justice. For my father, for my stolen life. And I know Jake remembers too. He' s already planning.
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My Husband's Mistress Invited Me to Coffee After Getting Pregnant
Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, the tenth anniversary of Ellie's Sweet Sensations, my beloved bakery. But amidst the flash of cameras and Dan's charming politician's smile, a cold knot tightened in my stomach. Late-night texts, a mysterious credit card charge from a boutique I'd never heard of, "Jolie's"... then I heard it, Dan cooing "Love you too, Maddie" into the phone. The perfect facade cracked; my husband was having an affair. The betrayal was bad enough, but then she popped up – Maddie Bell, young, blonde, influencer – flaunting my husband online. Vacation photos, the same necklace from Jolie's, and always always right next to my husband. Then I caught wind of THEIR baby. My carefully constructed world started crumbling as I came to terms with the stark reality: He wasn't just cheating; he was building a whole new life with her. I baked him that cake for our anniversary, knowing I'd soon be but a memory. Then, the ultimate slap – he was going to take Maddie home to meet his parents. The next day, she was at my doorstep feigning sympathy while my world burned. I couldn't stay with all of this on my plate. Not even for Liam. So I plotted my escape, a theatrical end: a staged car accident with me declared the victim. What kind? The one he causes. Was this revenge or survival? I thought it was both. But what would my story have in store? I started by documenting the full account of his disgusting deed in a diary I knew he would stumble on post-"mortem."
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